Choreographed CathexesStalking men at an adult video store...their apprehensive movements seemed to be choreographed, so I decided to see what the fuss was about. They were self-aware, dainty, made fragile by their paranoia. These random lonely men entering the store in such a suspiciously timed manner wreaked of history, a parallel history. Men, back in time, in these back rooms. When ballet theaters were no longer privatized in the 17th century, dressing rooms were converted to happy ending parlors. Wealthy patrons who helped sponsor the ballet were 'invited' to have close encounters of the auspicious kind with some ballerinas, who came to be referred to as the 'Ballet Rats'. The man at the counter simultaneously scowled and grinned at me. He motioned me toward the room in back, where I entered a metal module which must have been transported from a b-grade science fiction movie set. Unfortunately, once closing the door, I slipped on the slick linoleum floor, knocking my camera into the button pad. A pink and blue geometric pattern animated across the screen, delineating its designated space, bouncing around the frame. I stuck a quarter in and the screen split into quadrants:Top Left: hetero-normative you guessed itTop Right: Momma's BoyBottom Left: Swinger's PartyBottom Right: Bottom RightsI left hurriedly, my shoes conducting the soundtrack of my departure.The unmarked white soccer mom van parked illegally in front of me had a giant blue penis graffiti'd on it.